The Black Swan
by festivities
Summary: Isabella Swan is a young tattoo artist struggling with the recent death of her father. Alice Brandon is an aspiring author, and finds realms of untold stories within Bella's artwork. AU. AH. Femslash.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Isabella Swan is a young tattoo artist struggling with the recent death of her father. Alice Brandon is an aspiring author, and finds realms of untold stories within Bella's artwork. AU. AH. Femslash.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own, nor am I affiliated with any part or facet of the _Twilight_ franchise.

**Warnings: **This fic deals with the heavy issue of family death. Lemons in future chapters, 'inappropriate' language.

* * *

**Chapter One**

Alice Brandon entered the tattoo parlour with a determined step. _This_ would be the very last one she would visit, for the ones she had graced earlier had frustrated the dainty girl to no end. While she was not one to stereotype or generalise a person she had found most of the tattooed patrons within the stores to shoot her disgruntled looks, and ask whether she had an appointment or if she planned to merely ogle their artworks for free.

It had bothered her at the time, for she was planning on making some form of purchase today. Luckily though, none of those burly men had the sort of print she was after, and young Alice was glad to be exiting both the Gilded Needle and Iron Joe's Tattoo Emporium without much conversation.

She walked over to the west wall of The Black Swan, and began to scrutinise the different, colourless shapes the hung in frames on the wall. A large tiger leaping across the page caught Alice's eye immediately, and she marveled at the precise shadowing under the animal's legs and across its back. Without the knowledge that this was sketch Alice would have believed it was a black and white photograph.

She turned and gazed around the tattoo parlour, eyes landing on the large, tanned man standing behind the glass counter. He smiled as she caught his eye and greeted her with a wave, "Hello, may I help you?"

She liked this man already. His easy smile assisted the laid-back atmosphere the store was known for.

"Hi," she responded, "my name's Alice. These are some lovely sketches."

"Thank you! That tiger in particular took me a fair while, though the customer paid a great deal to have it done." He walked out from around the counter, his large hands sliding into his jeans pocket. "My name's Jacob Black. Co-owner of this grand space."

She laughed with him at the joke, Jacob himself would probably have to duck to get through the front door. While the parlour is very nice and clean, it was also very small.

It was then that Alice's eyes caught the wall opposite her.

She often thought the colour grey to be bland and tasteless, associated with negative emotions and dull in its presentation, and though the entire east wall of the small business was slathered in this paint, she had never seen anything so vibrant.

Paintings, sketches, water colours, and even chalk artworks were framed and hung upon the wall. Every picture plane bursting with energy and untamed giddiness. There was a tiger on this wall too, roaring as half of it's body was leaping from a fiery pool of reds and yellows.

It was the frame in the direct center of the wall that caught Alice Brandon's attention and curiosity.

The print hung inside a thick, dark border; within this border was a set of eyes. The left eye was shaded heavily with blacks and greys, the circle underneath the bottom eyelid drooping heavily. The right eye, however, was pulled upwards, almost crinkling. Alice knew this eye was the product of a smile, and the colour within the iris was set in a deep, earthy brown.

What story did the piece hold? How was Jacob able to capture such extreme emotions within just one pair of eyes?

_Perfect,_ she thought. Yes, absolutely perfect. This was just the inspiration she needed! The right kick-start for the fiction she sought so earnestly.

A story was forming in her mind already, a tale of a young man who rose from the ashes of a burdened childhood and pushed back against his oppressors.

_Yes, yes, yes. Genius!_

Alice turned to Jacob with an outstanding smile.

"So you like the eyes, huh?" He laughed.

"It's incredible! I've never seen anything like it. It's exactly what I'm looking for."

He smiled and rubbed his hands together. "Okay, that's good. I know how difficult it can be to pick out the perfect tattoo. Would you like to make an appointment?"

Jacob moved back to stand behind the counter and Alice laughed nervously as she stood on the other side. "Actually, I'm not looking for a tattoo."

He placed either hand underneath both sides of his appointment book, closing it dramatically. "I am… confused," he stated, eyes narrowing comically.

Alice laughed again, more genuine and less nervous this time, "I'm interested in purchasing the print. What price are we looking at?"

"Oh.. Oh!" He stumbled, "I, uh, I'm afraid I can't help you with that."

Alice's face fell.

Jacob was practically stuttering when he saw the tiny, beautiful woman sad. "I mean, I want to! But it's not really up to me.."

Alice's ears perked up when she heard the opportunity.

"Who's in charge of that sort of stuff? Is it a legal thing?"

"It could be, that's the issue." He sighed with relief; Jacob Black wasn't good with calming down hysterical women, save his best friend. "It's just that I'm not the artist of that print. I wouldn't want to sell something that didn't belong to me."

"I can understand that pretty well. I'm an author," she smiled, "my last name is Brandon."

"Hey, yeah, I know you! You wrote that book about the new-age war. I, uh, I haven't read it. But my business partner has. She enjoyed it."

Alice beamed at this news. She was a new author, still very young. She caught her big break with a publishing agent at the age of twenty-one, her first book _Steel Pontoons_ having been published on her twenty-second birthday. It was rare that she was able to interact with people who had read her work.

"Oh, I'm glad! I love it when people enjoy my book."

Alice began to believe that Jacob had a permanent smile on his face as he answered, "She's not here at the moment. She actually won't be back until next week."

Young Alice's smile turned down slightly before she replied, "Oh well, that's life. Would you mind telling her thank you for me?" She hurried on at his curious expression, "Well just thank you for the support! I'm still trying very hard to get my work out into the world."

He laughed, "I'll be sure to pass that information to her. And I'll do the same with her answer."

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards at Alice's confused eyes. _Why would she be thanking me?_

"She's the artist of the print you want. The eyes? That's all her talent. Not mine."

_Perfect. This is perfect. Surely if I sign her book or something she'd be willing to sell the print to me!_

"Small world," they laughed together.

"And she's back next week, you said?"

"I did, yeah. Next Thursday."

Alice was excited by the news, though she was incredibly eager to begin work on her novel. Today was Monday, giving her ten days until her _fan _and _artist_ ten returned.

_Ten days away, I can wait ten days... I hope_.

"Well, I'll definitely be back next Thursday then, Mr. Black."

She waved before exiting the parlour and into the chilly air of Seattle. Her apartment was about a twenty-minute walk from The Black Swan, so she quickly flagged down a cab and pointed them in the correct direction of her home.

Alice Brandons apartment was a reflection of the hyper-active, constantly jolly girl herself. The small glass table in her living room was littered with a multitude of papers, some scrunched, others with large ink stains. Her brown sofas made of leather, and the kitchen was wide. She had polished floorboards in every room except the bathroom, the dark marble tiles contrasting greatly with the pristine white of the utilities.

Alice's bedroom was by far her pride and joy, however.

She had no bed frame, but merely two mattresses on top of one another in the center of the room. She has large, dark wooded wardrobes and drawers against her walls, littered with knick-knacks, candles and odd figurines. Two of her walls were a dark purple, whilst the other two painted a deep blue, reminding Alice of the diving trips she took with her cousins as a child.

She sighed and fell face first onto her bed. All the excitement she possessed for her novel evaporated when she thought about lying down for just a moment. Tiredness settled into Alice, dropping her eyes and slowing her thoughts. She had been up late the night before on the phone to Rosalie and Jasper, her twin cousins and best friends. Rosalie complained about Emmett (her fiancé), spending more 'bro time' with Jasper than 'wedding time' with her.

Alice had been incredibly happy when she heard of Emmett's proposal. It was a long time coming. Alice knew of no other man who could love Rosalie as much as he did, for better or for worse. The weekend after said proposal Jasper announced that he and his girlfriend Kate had decided to live together, and again, celebrations were to be had all around.

After all the congratulations had been said though, Alice began to feel the loneliness set in.

Alice was, by nature, an incredibly giving and caring person. She wanted to share these traits with someone more than anything.

The issue with this though, was her parents.

Alice had come out to her parents when she was eighteen-years-old. She had been working up the nerve to tell them she was a lesbian for a year, and felt it to be appropriate on her birthday. She would be turning eighteen, she would be an adult, it would be time to face her fears.

They hadn't taken the news especially well.

They had by no means thrown her out of the house in a flurry of screaming and distribution of holy water, no.

But the atmosphere of Alice's home changed. Her mother rarely asked of her love life, and rarely took any opportunity to show support. Her father was the same, yet made no attempt to speak to her at all, unless he was spoken to.

Mr. and Mrs. Brandon believed it was all just a phase, but yet they still could not reconcile within themselves a way to be 'okay' with their daughters sexual preference. They ignored her to the fullest, in the hopes that she would date a boy just to hold their love once more.

And while Alice, by no means, catered to this whim. She also never allowed herself the pleasure of a companion. Alice never allowed herself to feel the warmth of someone else. She feared it would be the very end of her relationship with her parents.

Young Alice left home on her twentieth birthday after receiving a job with a filing company in Seattle. It wasn't much, but it was enough to help her hold an apartment and pay the bills.

It was at this job that she met Edward Masen, the foster son of a rich publishing agent. The two of them formed a quick friendship and soon Edward was introducing her to Carlisle, foster father to said foster child.

Everything happened very quickly after that. She began to write chapter upon chapter, submitting and resubmitting to the editors until they were happy. She spent many nights with Edward, Carlisle and his wife, Esme. She integrated herself happily into their little family, finding solace in their support of her and their son.

Alice drifted off to sleep with a happy smile.

* * *

"So when do you know if this artist will let you buy the print?"

It was Wednesday. Edward and Alice's coffee day.

"I go back next tomorrow to speak with her. She must be away."

"Probably at a tattoo expo," Edward wrinkled his nose.

"You know I'm actually going back to get a tattoo, right? A giant tiger right on my back, it'll be awesome."

"Very funny, Alice. I just don't think they look very professional."

Alice rolled her eyes, "Live a little."

This wasn't out of the ordinary for Edward. He was brought up to be a very proper man. He was acting forty-years-old at the age of twenty-six.

He had always been this way; from the very moment Alice had met him. A pure, undiluted gentleman. Every girl goes crazy over him, gushing about his hair, his eyes, the suits he wears.

Edward had grown up in a tough home. A place where there was no love at all, only yelling, abuse, bruises. Perhaps it's only right Edward behaved this way. He experienced more at the age of eight than most people endure in a lifetime.

Edward signaled the waitress and smiled as she arrived. "May we please have some more coffee?"

Alice swore that this girl was about to have an aneurysm, her face was flushed with heat, and she swallowed heavily before answering, "Sure thing, uh, just the same from earlier?"

"Yes please."

That did it. Every girl in the café fell in love in that moment.

Alice smirked at her friend; "You can cut all this gentlemanly crap with her now. We both know she's going to ask you out, and we both know you're going to say yes, and then we both know what's going to happen tonight." She raised her brow at him.

All of the early discussion about Edward being a kind man stood true, and whenever he slept with a woman he did so in a way that he still came out looking like a god, even if he never called them again.

"A man has needs, Alice, it just so happens that I care about woman's feelings as well."

She chuckled as their waitress brought over their next round, smiling into her cup as Edward asked about her latest idea.

She spent some time responding to his questions about her latest novel, which would probably remain untitled until the book was completed.

Eventually their conversation came to an end, and after Edward had paid the bill (he _had_ to), the two friends entered into the chilly air outside. Upon her first step however, Alice saw something that made her grind to an abrupt halt.

It was a girl—_woman _walking the opposite way on the other side of the road. She wore high-heeled boots and tight black jeans. Her shirt was a vivid red with a low cut neckline; a silver heart pendant dangled from her neck that was mostly covered by a scarf and a long, black coat. Her hair spilled down her back in mahogany waves, bouncing with each step she took; her face was heart shaped and partially hidden by her sunglasses.

This woman was the embodiment of the print she adored so much. This woman was art brought to life. She was the most beautiful woman Alice had ever laid her eyes upon.

But all too soon, she was gone. Turned a right corner and continuing on with her life, with no idea the ruckus she had just caused in young Alice's head.

Edwards had noticed her too. "Wow, she was gorgeous."

That broke Alice awake. "No! No. You always get the girls. No. If I see her again I'll be the one speaking to her. I'll be the one flirting with her. I'll be the one making an ass out of myself. Not you. No. You shouldn't be allowed to speak to girls I speak to. Ever. Period."

Though his eyes were wide, Edward laughed. "Okay Alice, I promise to never speak to any girl you ever look at again. Ever. Period."

She paid no attention to his teasing, and preceded to walk with him down the road, in the opposite direction her fantasy girl was heading. She caught herself looking back several times, and chided herself. _Oh come on, what are the odds you will ever see that girl again?_

She snapped herself from her beautiful-fantasy-extraordinary-girl haze, and went home, beginning to draw up drafts of what I wanted to female love interest to look like in this novel.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary:** Isabella Swan is a young tattoo artist struggling with the recent death of her father. Alice Brandon is an aspiring author, and finds realms of untold stories within Bella's artwork. AU. AH. Femslash.

**Warnings: **This fic deals with the heavy issue of family death. Lemons in future chapters, 'inappropriate' language.

* * *

** Chapter Two**

Alice sprang awake in the early hours of the morning, her heart thumping rapidly against her chest. She moved her hands to cover her face, finding that it was covered in sweat. Her breaths came in quick gasps as the nightmare caught up with her.

She had been running down the street of her childhood home, her father chasing with laughter. He had been happy, and yet Alice's mind had screamed at her to keep running; don't stop, he'll catch you, he'll put his arms around you and you won't want to leave. He'll break you; he'll love you again.

Growing up as an only child meant Alice got as much attention and affection as she desired. Her parents supported her in every way they knew they could, her writing abilities, her studies, her interest in fashion. They had loved everything about Alice.

Except the thing so integral to her as a human being.

She curled under the quilt cover, pulling a pillow to her slowing heart.

_God no_.

Tears began to slip down Alice's cheeks as she remembered her fathers gruff voice, always quiet, but always smiling. Ready to listen to whatever his little girl had to say, no matter how many times he'd heard it before. His arms had always been strong to pick her up when she fell, and his disposition sunny to make her smile when she was embarrassed.

She clutched her pillow tightly as she saw her mothers eyes, hazel and knowing, narrow in disdain. Her mirthful aura cracking with an unwanted twist. Her mothers arms, once so warm and so inviting suddenly became as frosty as the Seattle air; her constant stream of conversation cutting off in ties, no opportunity for response of any kind.

She missed her parents more than she could comprehend. She missed the unconditional support she had growing up, she missed having a family.

Sure, she had Jasper, Rosalie, Emmett and Edward, and while the four of them held a special place in young Alice's heart, none of them possessed any of the traits she sought to eagerly within her parents. She had no safety net, no one person who would look at her and love her completely and fully. Her cousins and friends had their own lives to lead, with rare time to nurse a crying Alice and pepper her face with kisses.

She sighed as she felt more tears fall crookedly across her face.

_Stop. This won't solve anything._

She gently pulled the covers from her body and sat up, running her hands through the mop she referred to as 'hair'. Rosalie and Edward often berated her for having it so short. The two of them believed she would look heavenly with long flowing locks; Alice bought none of their sale, though.

She gazed at the analog clock hanging above her doorframe, groaning when she saw that it was 5:30am. She had too many hours to kill until she visited The Black Swan at 10:00am. Today was the day Alice would meet and convince her new favourite artist to sell her the print of her dreams at a reasonable price.

She stretched out her limbs, groaning in delight as she felt the pull of her muscles being awakened. _It's a new day; I shouldn't start it with such a pitiful mood. _Alice decided (as she did most mornings) to leave those memories locked away under the purple quilt set. How many nights had she dreamt of her parents now? It had to be at least four times in the past three weeks. Alice chalked these dreams up to her birthday being a month away. She'd be turning twenty-three, and it would be her third birthday without her parents. She had spent some time calling them after having moved to Seattle, but William and Sylvia Brandon seldom wished to converse.

Alice plopped herself down in the living room, sinking into the couch and gazing at her roof. She placed her hands atop her head and attempted to plan out an antagonist for her novel.

A man, most definitely; her hero needed a complete polar opposite to overcome and defeat. An evil man who found no tolerance in change or innovation, wishing only for things to remain as they are. A man seeking to destroy those who oppose him by any means, whether it be violence, sabotage or… silence…

Alice sighed in frustration as she realized she was still dwelling on her fathers cold embrace.

She wondered briefly if there would ever be an escape from this loneliness, or if this was her punishment for some crime she had committed years ago whilst in her parents care. Had she wronged them so terribly? The people who had wanted her to be no one but _her_, to take pride in everything she did and how she pursued everything she loved. Was this icy city her only reprieve from the building pressure that heated her body so rapidly at the thought of confronting her parents? Or were these chilled buildings an escape from a bright, warm embrace that awaited her?

Alice felt Seattle pressing in on her from all sides, and she felt torn between embracing this land or running far from its climate.

She could have her parents back if she wanted; Edward would be more than happy to pose as a faux fiancé They would love him.

_They'd love me._

No… No they wouldn't love _her_, not the Alice who was feisty and inspired and rambunctious. They would love an Alice who would lie and crawl under her sheets every night to cry over what her life had become. _Again. _

Alice was raised to believe in who she was, regardless of cause.

How very, very hypocritical of William and Sylvia Brandon.

* * *

She couldn't get any work done, no research, no planning, and no character design.

Nothing.

Sitting on the apartment floor was a flurry of paper, sketches, books and an expensive looking laptop (a gift from Edward last Christmas). Alice lay in the middle of the paper trench, staring at her ceiling and trying to imagine plot lines in her mind. 'Trying' being the optimum word. Instead Alice found herself picturing the fantasy girl she had seen yesterday, and placing the two of them in very compromising positions.

This wasn't new for Alice, no, she often saw beautiful women and then fantasised about actually _being_ with them quite often, though she rarely acted on any of these thoughts.

Alice, while exuberant in nature, shied away from flirtation or physical intimacy to great lengths. She was inexperienced and quite unworthy of another woman's moan or breathy voice. She simply didn't have it in her to allow any of her imagined scenarios to bloom.

She began to feel a dull ache between her legs, and knew that was her queue to return to the real world. It was nine-thirty in the morning, and she needed to get ready to visit The Black Swan.

Alice washed her face and didn't think about her parents; she applied her makeup and didn't think about the fantasy girl; she slipped into a black dress and velvet ballets flats and didn't think about where she was walking and _ouch! _Alice got up from the floor and collected herself. She had caught her shin on the edge of the small coffee table, and a nasty bruise was sure to form later on in the day. Her walk was a little wobbly, a stinging pain still present in her leg.

Alice checked her appearance in the mirror, satisfied with her casual business style. Grabbing an apple on her way out the door, she proceeded down to Jacob Black's tattoo parlour.

* * *

Stepping through the front door Alice heard the familiar clanging sound of a tattoo gun followed by a high-pitched groaning sound. Looking up, she saw the appointment room door closed with a sign reading 'permanent mistakes in progress'. She chuckled and nervously approached the counter. A woman was sat behind it facing the opposite way, her legs crossed and a laptop sitting on top of them.

"Just a moment!" The woman quickly said over her shoulder, typing rapidly on her keyboard. She appeared flustered and frustrated.

Alice said nothing as she waited patiently for assistance. She heard one final keystroke, a puff of indignant air, and then the _woosh_ of a chair being spun around.

_No way. No God damn way._

Alice's threat to Edward yesterday of 'that beautiful girl is mine to flirt with' had all been fun and games when Alice had no intention or thought of _ever_ crossing paths with this Siren ever again. Her flagrant claim over the beautiful woman had all been silly and playful. Alice had been all talk.

And now as she stood before the exact women she was thinking about earlier, her body felt like it had been hotwired to a turbo engine. Her temperature was rising and she could feel her ears burning. The very sight of this woman made Alice blush.

_Or maybe it was because I was fantasizing about that face between my legs earlier._

In any case, this woman was staring at Alice intently with deep brown eyes, waiting for her to speak.

"Uh, hello! My name is Alice.. Um, I don't know if Jacob said anything, but—,"

"You're interested in buying my painting."

_Her lips move so hypnotically._

"Yeah, that's me."

The woman stood up, and was easily a head taller than Alice. She felt smaller in this tattoo parlour than she ever had in her life. She recalled the wondering feeling whether the cold Seattle air was her refuge, but nothing about this city seemed chilly at the moment. Her body was alight.

"Ms. Brandon, I'm a big fan of your work."

Alice blinked, "Likewise."

"My name's Isabella Swan, _please_ just call me Bella. I own the store with Jake."

_Words, Alice, use your words!_

"That's cool."

_Smooth._

Bella smiled shortly, and leaned against the glass counter. Alice briefly noticed and wondered at Bella's blank arms. Surely a tattoo artist would feel compelled to have some themselves?

Alice felt Bella closing in on her large bubble of space and took a step backwards. _Move away from the attractive female, Alice. Move away from _all_ females, Alice. Don't get close with anyone, Alice._

She controlled her breathing and swallowed her nervousness. "I really, really love your print. It's exactly what I've been looking for."

Bella looked up from the counter and at Alice, her eyes unreadable and her face blank.

"What exactly do you like about it?"

The question caught Alice off guard, she had been prepared to haggle prices, not delve into her personal thinking.

She wanted to, though. She desperately wanted this beautiful woman to know her thoughts.

So rarely it was that Alice allowed anyone to become close with her. So rare it was to be in the presence of a person as talented as this. Alice knew that she wanted to spill her guts to this woman for selfish reasons, so she could scream about her parents and have support from a neutral party, not cousins who have to respect their family, or a best friend who needed a business attitude on particular levels.

Bella looked intently at Alice, and she felt her face flush.

"I've been looking for inspiration for a new novel for quite some time now," she began, "the story is of a man who experiences untold loss during his life, only to fight against everything her was taught to do what makes him happy. Your art piece captures that so beautifully," she turned to the aforementioned art piece, "People say that the eyes are a gateway into someone's soul. This is exactly what I need. The dark shading of someone's past and the bright vividness of their future, so close together, but with a defining line between the two It marks how people are capable of changing, even if it physically doesn't show that process.

"My story will be about change, and how the ability to allow emotions to take their course builds character and strength."

The dialogue once present in The Black Swan had quickly turned into a soliloquy as Alice realised more and more how much this story was about herself. She could write easily about these things, she could give advice to her characters and now exactly how to solve an issue.

_Easier written than done._

She turned to Bella and their eyes connected. Alice had fully been expecting the artist to be staring at the print, finding these ideas Alice had gazed at. Had Bella been watching her the whole time? She felt a thrill at the thought.

"You're very passionate about your work," came Bella's soft voice.

Alice smiled at the compliment. "Writing is what I'm best at."

Bella looked back down towards the cabinet, sighing before standing straight. "I'm very sorry, Alice, but I can't sell the artwork to you."

Her words had become coarse and controlled by the end of her reply. Alice thought she heard the echo of a hiccup. Was she upset that Alice had wanted to buy it?

"Oh, uh, okay."

"I'm sorry. I am. That... It's just that this print is very important to me."

Alice heart had sunk. "That's okay, really." Her smile held none of its usual happiness.

Bella stared at Alice and bit her bottom lip, she looked troubled, and deep in thought.

Alice had trouble containing herself at the sight. So much so that she almost didn't hear the other woman's offer.

"I'll paint you a different one."

_What?_

Bella let out a small chuckle accompanied by a sad smile, she responded to Alice's confused look, "I can paint you a different one. I can't part ways with the original, but I can provide you with another."

"You'd do that for me?"

Bella bit her lip once more. _Good God not again._

"It's as much for me as it is for you. I'm interested in this book you want to write."

Alice face was an inferno. "Thank you, that means a lot… I don't often have a chance to meet someone who likes my writing."

"I think this new book sounds like a best-seller." Bella looked down quickly, but not before Alice caught sight of her watering eyes and quick breaths. She said nothing as she waited for the artist to compose herself.

"So, the artwork you're after. You'd like it just like the other one? I can't guarantee that they'll be exactly the same, but I can try. We can work out a few appointments where you can tell me if I'm on the right track or not. The canvas may take about two weeks or so."

Alice reeled at the thought of spending time with Bella.

_Getting to know her, laughing with her, kissing down her neck._

She almost told her no, she considered leaving the parlour and pursuing another artist. How could Alice allow herself to be so close to a woman she was interested in? She knew that she would eventually push her away. Would that be right? To befriend another person through each others talents, to unleash her thoughts and plans onto someone and then completely disregard their existence?

Is this something her parents would approve of?

She caught Bella's brown eyes, as earthy as the ones in the picture she adored.

_My parents aren't here._

"Sure! That sounds great. When can we meet next?"

Alice walked out of the parlour with a growing knot in her stomach. She was to meet Bella in three days time at The Black Swan so they could go over a basic sketch. How nice it was to have someone so interested in your work that they would go to great lengths to provide for it. Alice thought Bella felt the same way.

Walking down the street and away from The Black Swan though, Alice couldn't forget the sad gaze Bella gave her art work when Alice was leaving.

* * *

**A/N: I'd like to thank everyone for the overwhelming support I've received so early into the story. I'd like to let you know that ****_The Black Swan _****will be updated weekly, hopefully on a Tuesday (Australian EST). If you have any questions please feel free to personal message me, or leave a review. Thank you!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary:** Isabella Swan is a young tattoo artist struggling with the recent death of her father. Alice Brandon is an aspiring author, and finds realms of untold stories within Bella's artwork. AU. AH. Femslash.

**Warnings: **This fic deals with the heavy issue of family death. Lemons in future chapters, 'inappropriate' language.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

Alice grumbled as she strapped her black, velvet heels onto her dainty feet. She had planned a quiet Saturday night in her pajamas while watching trashy reality television shows. It had been a cold week frequented with rain, souring her mood to breaking point. Initially she had believed that motivation to stay inside her apartment would equate to a large amount of plot development, however, an intense wall of writers block squashed that hope. Alice was none too pleased with herself.

Rosalie had called Alice an hour and a half ago, coercing her into a night of drinking and dancing.

"_You're twenty-two Alice. For God's sake, get the hell out of your apartment."_

Alice stood taller (but still not an average height) in her five inch, thick-heeled Louis Vuitton shoes. They were a gift from Rosalie on her twenty-first birthday, and had been guilt-tripped into wearing them at every given opportunity. Her dress was short and red, matching her lips; her eye shadow was arranged in an elegant smokey-eye, and her hair straightened and sitting shapely around her face.

Alice sighed and began her descent down the stairway to her waiting cab, thinking back on appointment with her artist.

She had met with Isabella Swan four days ago, and was shown a quick colour sketch of the painting she was placing all her faith in. Each line was carefully thought out, the roundness of the eyes matching the original print, one half of the large paper a darker shade than the other. It was perfect, of course. Alice believed Bella could make a drawing of a potato sack look amazing.

Alice sat herself inside the cab and recalled their meeting with a spark tingling down her back.

The parlour had been warm that day; Jacob had cranked up the heat to combat the never-ending rain that had enveloped the cold city. Bella complained that Jacob had no means to exacerbate the electricity bill further, and grumbled as she saw his delighted smile of affection whilst tuning the heat to a higher setting.

Bella chuckled at his audacity, raised an eyebrow and tongued the inside of her cheek with contained annoyance. Alice laughed along with Jacob when he sauntered past her with a whisper "Careful, she bites."

Bella ducked her head lowly, and Alice saw the top of her ears flushing with heat. Had she heard what Jacob had said? _More than likely_. Was she embarrassed? _I would be too, but only because I've imagined her biting me._

The artist breathed deeply before standing up and inviting Alice through the tattoo room and into her 'office'. The room was more of a kitchen with a large table that had mechanical pencils lining over the top, whilst the surface was spotted forever in ink. The scene reminded Alice of her apartment floor where all her lines of dialogue and character design lay stagnant.

"Sorry, just let me sort through all of this to find the right one."

Alice took a seat and gazed at all of the drafts Bella had drawn up until she had found one she was most confident in and offered the page to the young author.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Except…

"The eye colour… they're blue in this version."

Bella bit her lip with worry, and as Alice peered up at her with innocent confusion, she noticed just how similar Bella's eyes were to her painting. The exact same shade. _Had it been a person portrait? Was that why she didn't want to sell it?_

"I know, I hope that's okay. It's not exactly like the original, I just felt... I felt as though blue worked as a better colour."

Alice noticed her hesitation and looked back towards the page in her hand. The colour didn't bother her, not really, but she was unsettled by how upset she felt that she wouldn't be owning an illustrated guide of Bella Swans eyes.

She swallowed and looked back up at Bella. Alice experienced an odd sense odd deja vu as she saw Bella looking at her, and not the blue-eyed sketch. "I don't mind," Alice smiled, "I was just curious..."

Alice's words hung in the air as a question that Bella consequently ignored. "I'm glad you like it."

As Bella sat down in her chair across from Alice, the young author saw an opportunity for a conversation that didn't revolve around words or paintings. "I never said I liked it," Alice teased, "It's _okaaaaay_, I guess."

Bella chuckled quietly, a small smile on her face, "well I suppose I'll just have to do better next time."

Alice had intended the conversation to be teasing, a witty dialogue to be exchanged. What she hadn't intended was for her to freeze up when she heard the tone of Bella's response. It was low spoken, and stated with an almost shy look.

_Is she flirting with me?_

As Alice felt the heat rise up her neck and into her cheeks, Bella cleared her throat and asked if Alice liked the rough copy before she began on the canvas. They made arrangements to meet in a week's time after Alice reassured her everything was fine.

Alice sighed as she replayed Bella's words in her head, over and over. It wasn't what she said, but it was _how_ she said it. That's how people flirt, isn't it? It is. But surely Bella hadn't been flirting with young Alice, no, no, no, their relationship was completely business. Wasn't it?

Alice sighed in annoyance. _I've met this person twice. Twice! That's only two whole God damn times. _

Looking out the taxi window, young Alice resolved to forget the beautiful tattoo artist for one night, and let everything go in a haze of alcohol and music. It's like her cousin had said, Alice is twenty-two years old, this is the only time in her life where such behaviour is tolerated.

* * *

Ailce grew sick of dancing after fifteen minutes of watching Emmett and Rose throw themselves at one another. It was one thing to do it at all, but it was another to completely third-wheel one of your cousins (who also happens to be your best friend). She told Rosalie that she was going outside for some air and began her descent down to through the bar and lounge area. She would text Rose and lie that she was feeling ill, hail a cab and be back in her pajamas in twenty minutes.

She glanced at her wristwatch, 12:30am. Way too early to call it a night, but late enough to fake a sickness. Alice had walked into the tiered bar and club with a resolve that tonight would be a swirl of laughter and dancing, what she hadn't accounted for was the crippling loneliness that would accompany her solo mind and heart. Seeing Rose and Em like that, whilst they shouldn't let their hands roam quite _that_ far in a public domain, she wished she had a partner in crime to do the same for her.

Alice had a few drinks that rushed through her small body. She found herself a little shaky when descending the stairs, thanking the gods when she made it onto level ground without falling. She steadied herself before walking through the bar area, only to be stopped by a hand on her shoulder.

"Alice!"

It was Irina, Jaspers girlfriends' sister. Jasper and Kate had made an attempt to set the two of them up a little over a year ago. Irina was lovely with long, strawberry blonde hair and—in her own words—an ass that just won't quit.

Irina invited Alice to have a seat by her at the bar, it turns out she had been stood up by a girl she had been pursuing for two weeks. She sighed and began mumbling about how it just wasn't meant to be.

Alice had no intention of staying at the bar with a depressed Irina, who she still felt vaguely uncomfortable around. It had been her fault their blind dates hadn't worked out. Alice believed their chemistry didn't work, Rose argued that Alice just didn't want to explore her options.

She had turned in her seat, ready for a quick escape when a head of dark brown waves caught her eye.

Bella was sat on the opposite end of the bar with a glass in hand, talking slowly with the bartender. He proceeded to make up a rum and coke and handed it to her. She looked into the glass before placing it on a napkin in front of the empty seat next to her. Bella placed her own glass on the bar top and traced the rim with her finger tips before looking up and around the bar, her eyes catching Alice's momentarily.

Irina's hand was on her shoulder again, "You wanna make that girl jealous?"

Her words made no sense, "What?"

Irina rolled her eyes before laughing delicately and touching Alice's arm, she leant forward to whisper into her ear "That hot girl over there? The complete _babe_, Alice, do you want to make her jealous?"

"I, uh… what? Why would I want to make her jealous?"

"Oh please Alice, you're practically eye-fucking her on the bar-top."

_This is awkward. Oh God this is awkward._

Alice shifted uncomfortably but didn't move away from Irina, whilst she wasn't okay with being so close to a woman she had turned down previously, she was also intrigued by what 'making Bella jealous' would actually do. Alice had caught the artist looking at her several times, and she _hadn't_ imagined her flirty tone of voice.

"Dear God Alice stop thinking and just put your arm on mine and smile."

The alcohol in Alice's body was enough fuel to do exactly that.

Irina smiled in victory now that Alice was playing along, and asked about the girl who was lucky enough to be eye-fucked by Alice Brandon.

She blushed and ducked her momentarily, taking a sip from the drink Irina offered. As she felt the uneven mixture of cranberry and vodka burn down her throat she spilled the beans about the beautiful artist.

"Ah, so you're pining after a beautiful woman who is doing you a service after you _think_ she flirted with you and you're not even sure if she's gay."

"When you say it like that it sounds like I'm a freak."

Irina laughed and Alice found herself joining in before her phone vibrated in her clutch. A message from Rosalie asking if everything was okay. Alice tapped out a quick response and accidentally mentioned she had run into Irina downstairs. Two minutes later the form of Rose and Emmett loomed over the two of them.

There were loud greetings between the three of them, Alice's tall, beautiful cousin looking at Alice conspiratorially. Alice knew that look, she had been victim to that look as a young child, she didn't know what Rose was planning, but she knew it wasn't good.

"How much have you had to drink, Al?" Emmett laughed in question.

"Not enough!" Irina called the bartender and requested a round of shots. Irina requested that she and Alice link arms whilst drinking the small, burning liquid, and Alice's drunk mind couldn't think of a reason not to. She giggled before looping her arms around her cousins girlfriend's sisters... That's who Irina was, right? That's how Alice knew her? The past became a blur in her minds eye.

She laughed loudly at something Irina had said, something about a nun? Some sort of joke, she was sure. Irina laughed too, but Alice believed it was more at her small, drunk form than her own joke.

She smiled at her cousins girlfriends sister and noticed how Irina's deep green eyes were lined with a ring of midnight blue. They were gorgeous.

"You have really nice eyes."

Irina blushed for the first time tonight, then laughed without humour.

"You're definitely drunk, Alice."

Drunk Alice giggled in response before asking Rose the time. It was 1:45am, and Alice nodded to herself. She should probably be heading home. She had a big day tomorrow.

She steadied herself off the bar stool and hugged her cousin and friend goodbye before turning to Irina. The woman in question affectionately embraced the smaller girl and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Alice noticed that Rosalie still had that contemplative/conspiracy look in her eyes, but Alice was too out of mind to think anymore of it.

She hesitantly glanced over to where Bella had been sitting for the entirety of Alice's inebriation, only to notice that she had left quietly, possibly during her embrace with Irina. As she was walking out into the cool Seattle air, she noticed the short glass of rum and coke lay untouched on the bar-top.

* * *

Hell would be better than this. Burning forever with brimstone and fire would be Alice's chosen alternative to the migraine she was experiencing. It was 9:30am on Friday morning, and Alice found herself asking if her overhead lights had always been this bright. She remembered thinking that 2:00am was an appropriate time to get home, considering she had big plans to meet with Carlisle and her editors this afternoon at 4:00pm. What she hadn't taken into consideration was the headache that worked its way through her body to the point where moving was an impossibility.

She thought back on the events of last night. Seeing Bella, fake flirting with Irina, Irina _actually_ flirting back with her. She remembered seeing the untouched rum and coke laying on the bar-top and wondering to it's meaning.

More than anything, though, Alice remembered just how _happy_ she had been. She understood and acknowledged that it wasn't exactly a healthy reaction, but Alice justified her logic that she wasn't having a good time with the alcohol until Irina commanded her to just _stop thinking_.

Rose had often told Alice that her issues with herself and others was just that she thought _too much_. She overthought it, thought under it, thought about it sideways. If it exists, Alice has thought about it.

Had that been her ultimate issue with her and Irina's budding relationship? That she overthought it? Irina didn't seem too heartbroken last night, she had offered to help Alice make another girl jealous! Surely that meant she was over what had happened.

_Or…_

Alice remembered how she had forgotten, at several points last night, that Bella would be watching her. Was Irina's actual plan to get Alice to spend time with her? She recalled Irina's sad, green eyes once she had complimented them. Why was she uncomfortable with a compliment? Much less from Alice, a person she knows, and has dated…

_Oh dear,_

Alice's cheeks became an inferno when she remembered how close they had gotten last night, how Alice's unhinged word filter had come out to play.

Before she had more time to dwell on those thoughts, her phone chimed with Rosalie's ringtone.

She answered with a blunt "I hate you."

Rose gave a coarse laugh, "Don't worry, I hate myself too this morning. Which is actually why I'm calling."

"What do you want?" Alice ground out whilst pressing on her throbbing temple.

"We're going to The Café for breakfast. Greasy food is the best hangover remedy. I'll pick you up in twenty minutes."

Rose had ended the call before Alice had a chance to tell her that there was _no way in hell_ she'd be going out before she had to today. Apparently though, Alice had no choice.

* * *

Young Alice entered Rose and Emmett's favourite café (which was actually and creatively named 'The Café') and immediately spotted Em's hulking form. It was hard to miss the gym junkie, and even if you couldn't see him Alice often _heard_ him coming from a mile away. Alice sat down between Rose and Emmett at the buffet counter, sipping the black coffee her cousin had generously ordered her.

"So," began Rose, the mischievous spark coming back into her blue eyes, "you and Irina seemed pretty cozy last night."

Alice's face flushed as she once again recalled her drunken communications with the beautiful woman. "I was also pretty damn drunk last night."

"I'll say, you were so much fun!" Emmett laughed. "I haven't seen you cut so loose in the entire time I've known you."

Was Alice really that boring without the use of alcohol? She frowned and ordered a plat of scrambled eggs and bacon.

After Rose had finished ordering she turned to Alice with her chins resting atop her hands.

"Al, I think you should spend more time with Irina."

_Not again._ Alice didn't think she could handle another set-up.

Rose continued, "I also think you need to stop living in the past so much. I mean, look at yourself. You're a twenty-two-year old successful author with kick-ass friends, a kick-ass apartment, and kick-ass talent. You were so happy last night Al, and I want to see you like that again, but _without_ the use of alcohol."

"And how exactly do you thin me spending time with Irina will achieve that?" Alice bit back at her.

Rose sighed, "I know you're lonely, Al. I've known you my entire life, and I like to think I can read you like a book. Irina's great, and I know that you like the kind of person she is. Just… It doesn't have to amount to anything, you know? What's the worst that could happen?"

Alice sat in silence as she absorbed Rosalie's words. It's one thing to feel so terribly lonely, but it's another to have someone know that you are. She had always depended on Rosalie's confidence to help her through many situations.

It was Rose's confidence that helped heal Alice after her fallout with her parents, and it was Rose's confidence that help instill in Alice the drive to create a world of fiction.

Why shouldn't she trust her now?

"Okay. I'll give it a shot."

Rose smiled, "Good, because she's meeting you here in ten minutes."

_That's _why Alice shouldn't always trust Rose's confidence. Whilst it has helped over the years, it has also left her in compromising positions, like this meeting with Irina was sure to turn out. How could Alice possibly have time to think about what she would say, or what to wear?! Had that been Rosalie's plan all along?

"_Rosalie!"_ Alice hissed, eyes widening. She felt her face flush. Rose smirked before she stood from her seat; Emmett quickly followed suit, winking and kissing Alice on the cheek. "Goodluck, you little muppet."

"I hate your girlfriend."

He laughed back, "fiancé, Alice. She's my fiancé."

* * *

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